


Remember What You Are And What You're Not

by ev1878



Series: Ramsay Snow/Theon Greyjoy (Reek) [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Violence, Blood and Gore, Dreadfort, Game of Thrones References, Game of Thrones spoilers, Identity Issues, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Inspired by Game of Thrones, M/M, Mind Control, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Physical Abuse, Psychological Trauma, Stockholm Syndrome, Threats of Violence, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2439008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ev1878/pseuds/ev1878
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S4Ep8 During and after Moat Cailin, Reek was drown in his own tortured thoughts. Ramsay taught Reek a good lesson, making sure Reek remembered what he was.</p><p>'Kraken...... They collapsed under their proud weight and slump into a heap of nothing.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

‘What do you tell them?’ My master looked at me, his eyes as sharp as those of a hawl.  
‘I’m Theon Greyjoy, son of Balon, heir to the Iron Islands.’ I tried hard not to stammer as my master lifted my right hand and put it into a leather glove. The stump stung when it touched the worn human skin. Emptiness stuffed up the space where my little used to be.  
‘And what are you really?’ My master asked.  
‘I’m Reek.’  
‘Are you sure?’ My master gazed at me up and down, ‘You do look very much like a lord. Formidable, proud.’  
‘I’m Reek, m’lord,’ I repeated, making sure that I looked him in the eye.  
‘Until when?’ He asked in a challenging tone.  
‘Always,’ and then, ‘Forever,’ I added. I just wanted to reassure him of my absolute loyalty.

‘That’s right, ‘his face edged towards mine. ‘Until you are rotting in the ground,’ he patted my face in the way he patted his hounds, ‘Remember what you are, and what you’re not.’ He threw his arm around my shoulders, leaving me no choice but to follow him to the edge of the cliff.  
There stood Moat Cailin, lonely and dying in the mist.  
‘Bring me Moat Cailin,’ my master ordered in his soft voice. Cold winds blew, a crow was screaming some death calls in its hoarse voice, ‘Moat Cailin! Moat Cailin! Moat Cailin!’

‘You say you’re Theon Greyjoy?’ Kenning asked.  
‘Yes,’ I replied, short and clear.  
‘And why should I believe that?’  
I secretly took a deep breath and recited the sentence my master wanted me to say. I had practiced it for so many times, and I had tasted the consequences of failure. There was no way I couldn’t do it again here.  
‘I was born on Pyke to Balon Greyjoy, his third and last living son. I am your Prince, I swear it by the Drowned God,’ I swallowed, ‘What is dead may never die.’  
‘What is dead may never die, ‘ the others repeated.  
I put down my right hand and told myself immediately afterwards the Drowned God was dead already, so was Theon.  
‘Remember what you are, and what you’re not.’ My master’s voice echoed beside my ears.

‘What does Lord Bolton want?’  
“Lord Bolton implored you to protect your men and abandon this fortess you can no longer hold. The Bolton will give you safe passage to the Stony Shore.’ I tried to pluck up my dignity and recited in a rather steady tone.  
‘He wants us to surrender?’ Kenning murmured.  
‘Do this, and he’ll be just and fair with you as he has been with me.’ I swallowed hard. This was always the most difficult sentence for me to say. Just and fair, with me. For each time of hesitation and showing of fear and cowardness, the punishment from Lord Ramsay was unimaginable. Just and fair.

‘My own father, your King, surrendered to Robert Baratheon years ago. I watched him bend his knees, and there was no shame there. He fought with honour, as did you.’  
The wounded man fell down and muttered something that I couldn’t quite understand as he struggled to stand up again. I tried to ask him what he had said, only to be spit on the face. The mixture of saliva and blood dripped down my cheek, reminding me of how my master had treated me as one of his hounds. I sensed an invincible shadow casting over me, and the pressure was becoming almost too much for me to even breath.

‘No shame, fought with honour,’ he said with disgust, ‘only a whipped dog would speak this way, or a woman.’  
‘Are you a woman, boy?’ he asked hatefully and carefully.  
A whipped dog or a woman, what id I was both? Why couldn’t he just surrender like I did and spare me the humiliation?  
I stared at him, but what I saw was my master standing in front of me, with his casual grin and holding a dog whip, ready to strike.  
‘If you fail, Reek, even I cannot guarantee you what you will become. Perhaps some plaything to my hounds?’  
I blinked once.  
‘Remember what you are and what you’re not.’

‘The Ironborn will not surrender.’ Kenning continued anyway.  
And that was it, the final straw that crashed the fake frame of Theon Greyjoy and made all the past punishments turn into nothing. I was going to fail eventually. No matter how hard I tried, I could never be good enough for my master, just like Theon couldn’t to Balon.  
I was not an Ironborn, Theon was. It was Lord Ramsay that gave me a name and a life. I was born at the Dreadfort, and ‘Reek, my name is Reek……’ I mumbled to myself.  
Balon didn’t give Theon nothing, but Lord Ramsay, although stripping me down to nothing and discovering my deepest fear, forced me to face it and in the end gave me a solution. Lord Ramsay was my true saviour, my reedember.

‘Go tell you master, that Theon Greyjoy, or whoever the fuck you are……’  
He knew it, he knew that I was fake. He knew that I wasn’t Theon. How was I going to face my master when I went back without Moat Cailin? There was no room for failure under Lord Ramsay. I wanted to say that I was Theon Greyjoy but somehow, ‘My name is Reek…..’ haunted my head and my mind.  
‘What in the hell are you muttering?’  
I wasn’t even aware that I said it out until he asked. My lips trembled, struggling to form words, letting along sentences. Before I could reply, an ax cut through Kenning’s fragile skull and remained deep, sunk into his forehead.

I stared at the still opened eyes as the body slumped to the ground. I was in shock but much to my relief, this fellow traitor might just safe me from a hell lot of pain inflicted by my master. This was my chance to make it up, I couldn’t fail this time.  
‘If we yield, we live. Is that what it says on this paper here?’ With trembling hands, ‘the traitor’ picked up the paper, understanding no words on it, yet carefully asked in earnest and sincerity with a shred of hope in his eyes.  
I regained certain levels of composure in a surprising few seconds.  
‘Yes, have your men raise the white flag and open the gates. You’re going home.’

At the end of the day everybody was happy and satisfied, apart from Kenning. My master was happy because Lord Roose Bolton was happy. I was happy for my Lord Ramsay and the fact that he had given me additional food and clothing as me reward. The surrendered men were happy for having kept their lives all the way to the Dreadfort. I was even a bit of proud for my master’s kindles and generosity for sparing the men’s lives. That night, I still slept on the floor in Lord Ramsay’s room, yet he gave me another quilt. I fell asleep almost immediately when I lied down. For the first time for so many months, I didn’t have a single nightmare haunting me. I was unaware of nothing around me until I woke up and found my master not in his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Ramsay was waiting for Reek in the dungeon with his flaying knife ready.......

There was only me in the room. Where had he gone? I was not allowed to sleep more than he did. I was supposed to wake up early and get breakfast ready for my master. What had I done? Why had I sleep so long? I scrambled to my feet and opened the windows. It was still dark, it wasn't even dawn! Why would my master disappear in the middle of the night? I rushed out of the door but didn't know where to start looking for him. Two guards happened to come around and kindly told me that my master was waiting for me in the dungeon. No, anywhere but the dungeon, please. I didn't do anything that made me deserving to be tied back to the cross, did I? I almost collapsed to the guards' feet hearing their words. All the scars on my body seemed to open up by themselves, oozing dirty blood and hurting me. All the things around me were spinning, taking me through a journey of pain, suffering, taunting, and humiliation. The scars between my legs felt burning and almost sent me into unconsciousness. Which of my body parts did he want from me this time?

The two guards left after helping me up to my feet. I wanted to cry, but I found myself having no tears to shed at all. I felt nauseous, as if somebody had just punched me real hard in the guts. I fell to my knees again. The panic nearly made me choke myself. I pressed my Palm down to the floor to stable myself, only to see my mutilated hands. Everything, everything on me was the product of the cross, I, myself, was the product of the cross. Lord Ramsey was not my master, he was a sadistic torturer with a malicious heart and endless hunger for blood and pain. I was not Reek, I was the creature between Theon Gregjoy and Reek. I didn't have a name, I was nothing.

When I finally wasted an awful lot of time pitying myself and made it to the dungeon, I saw Ramsay outside the dungeon leaning against its door, as the guards had said, waiting for me. ‘You are here at last, and how long has it been?’ he asked.  
‘I'm sorry, m'lord.’ That was all I could say as I suppressed a sob. Ramsay reached down to his belt in an exaggerated way and drew out his flaying knife as he slowly approached me. I screwed my eyes shut tightly and couldn't help whimpering. I could feel the temperature dropping where the knife edged closer to my skin. It trailed from my chin upwards to my cheek and around my eyes, then I heard a distant scream.

‘Look at me, Reek.’ I panted, daring not to thinks about the worst and obeyed. His face was so close to mine, his eyes were still tender grey.  
‘You're scared, Reek,’ he said. Was this a question? I blinked, making sure that I could really see.  
‘What do you want, Reek?’ his voice soft. It was getting confusing now.  
‘I...I...I don't-’  
‘It's okay, Reek, tell me,’ Ramsay added.  
‘Don't……don't put me back to the cross...please...’  
‘Please what?’ he asked sharply.  
I trembled violently as I fell to my knees, ’Please...m'lord.’  
His eyeing on me was icy cold. ‘You should be grateful that I'm in a good mood today. I still have work to do, and you will wait here for further instructions. Remember what you're and what you're not.’  
‘Yes, m'lord,’ and, ‘Thank you, m'lord.’ I replied, head lowered.

More screams and whimpers came from the dungeon as my master returned. I realised that the distant scream was not from me, but from the people inside the dungeon. I heard them struggled against their restrains and crosses. They screamed theirselves hoarse, until they could scream no more. And the silence was the most unbearable thing. My master would certainly keep them alive, so did they just faint from the torture, or worse, my master had cut their vocal cords, perhaps along with their tongues? I suddenly felt thankful that my master didn't take away my ability to speak.

I didn’t know how long it had passed before my master came out of the dungeon again with his blood-stained cloak.  
‘Reek, go to the courtyard. I have something for you to see!’ he ordered, eyes sparkling lights with a sly smile on his face.  
It took a long time for me to make it to the courtyard through the numerous stairs from the dungeon. It was not until I pulled open the gate and saw the sun light that I realized that it was already morning. The birds were singing, gentle winds blew, and folks were walking around as if nothing had happened. They pretended, at least. Only the air was stuck with the thick smell of blood and rotten flesh.

There the Bolton men displayed the corpses if the happy surrendered men from last night, whom were promised safe passage to Stony Shore. I only recognized them by their faces, because apart from that, all the other parts were just the same, blood smeared, and flayed to bones. As Lord Roose Bolton said, there was no secrets anymore. One of the traitor’s eyes was gone. I didn’t know whether my master took it away himself or the crows did. I stood there, tongue-tied, no noticing my master approaching me.

‘Do you like them, Reek?’  
I gasped at the unexpected appearance of his voice just beside my ears.  
I hesitated, ‘Of course, m’lord.’ I turned around and replied.  
His eyes fixed on my face, studying my expressions. ‘You’re upset, Reek.’  
I knew I couldn’t hide anything from him. My mind had been completely flayed, and I had no secrets left. I cast my eyes down and lowered my head further in fear.

‘Seven Hells!’ my master swore, ‘You didn’t really think that I’d just let them go, did you?’ he threw his arm around my shoulders again casually.  
‘It’s fallen out of fashion, flaying. Sad, but true, traditions are important,’ he paused, ‘Where are we without our history, eh?’ he asked, but clearly not expecting an answer.

My mind was tangled. I thought my master was letting them go. He made me said that he’d let them go. They trusted me and killed Kenning, they trusted my master and they surrendered. But what did they get? My master sacrificed his sleep and spent the whole night flaying his new prisoners right after his return to the Dreadfort. And now I was truly one of them, the Boltons. But why would I care? Why would I have mercy on them? Only those who obeyed from their hearts deserved mercy from my Lord Ramsay. My master showed me his mercy by not killing me.

Really, I felt I should be happy for my master’s success taking over Moat Cailin.  
‘Yes, m’lord. Will we go home now?’ I replied, wearing a face that a loyal servant would wear forever till his death.  
‘I believe we will, to our new home.’ He replied in his soft and light voice and walked away without giving me a second look. I blinked several times.  
‘And don’t get too easy, Reek. Remember what you are, and what you’re not.’ His voice seemed to come from miles away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for only posting this now.  
> I have been preparing for tomorrow's Midterm........
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Any suggestions or comments are much appreciated!


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